


i think we could do it if we tried

by Rivran



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Back Scratching, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, I just want somebody to play with my hair and it SHOWS, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Touch-Starved, this is extraordinarily soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivran/pseuds/Rivran
Summary: “Tell me about it,” asked the angel. It wasn’t really a question. He moved a hand to rest on Crowley’s back. The hand moved in soothing circles, scratching lightly as it moved.The bookshop fire still haunts Crowley’s dreams. Thankfully, he has an angel to bring him back to reality.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	i think we could do it if we tried

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from Sofia by Clairo, which is a very lesbian song that still totally fits the ineffable husbands

“Aziraphale!”

Fire. Smoke. The bookshop was burning, _again_ , and Crowley was trapped in the middle of the blaze. The flames swirled around him in a solid column, just like it had in Heaven.

Gabriel’s face smirked at him through the wall of fire. _Shut your stupid mouth and die already_ , he mocked. His voice rang through the burning building.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley shouted again. “Where are you? I can’t find you!”

 _He’s gone_ , said the booming voice. _He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone_ , it echoed.

“No,” he begged the smoky air. “No! No!” He fell to his knees. The shop crackled and burned around him. The air filled his lungs with smoke. Shelves buckled and collapsed over his head.

“Crowley?”

 _Aziraphale_ , he realized. He threw himself upright. The flames left bright white spots in his vision. He blinked, and the room quickly resolved itself into his own dark bedroom.

The change left him disoriented and dizzy. Crowley wavered, then dropped to the floor like a stone. He sucked in shallow breaths, trying to clear out the memory of the smoke.

“Oh, dear,” said Aziraphale from somewhere above him.

“Ziraphl?” he said into the carpet. His heart beat unnecessarily in his chest, but he was frozen. The nightmare had sapped the energy from every muscle in his body.

Something clinked. Someone sighed. Strong arms encircled his body and deposited him back on the bed.

He blinked again. There was still fabric in his mouth, but it was a pillowcase, not carpet. He twisted his head to look at the angel.

“Aziraphale?” he repeated, without anything in the way.

“Hello, love.” He sipped his tea. “Bad night?”

“Hmph,” he grunted.

“Tell me about it,” asked the angel. It wasn’t really a question. He moved a hand to rest on Crowley’s back. The hand moved in soothing circles, scratching lightly as it moved.

“I don’t want to,” he muttered into the pillow. He released a little tension in his back anyway. Deep breath in, out. Focus on the sensation.

Aziraphale’s hand found the space just between his shoulder blades and dug in. His nails pressed softly through Crowley’s shirt. He relaxed even further into the mattress.

“Please, my dear. I can tell it’s bothering you.”

“Fine,” he relented, “but only if you keep scratching.”

Crowley heard the _clink_ of a teacup in a saucer. The hand on his back disappeared. He opened his mouth to complain, but all thoughts disappeared when the hand came back to rest in his hair. Another hand appeared on the small of his back.

“Hmmmmgh,” he groaned, lying face-down on the pillows. The last vestiges of tension (and dignity) left his body as Aziraphale lovingly petted the demon. The hand in his hair trailed soft circles with each finger. It opened and closed, gently tracing stars against his scalp. It played with his hair. Locks of hair slid like silk through his fingers; each curl separated from the mass as he pulled it away.

Crowley, meanwhile, dissolved like a sugar cube in hot tea. As far as he was concerned, the world didn’t exist anymore. The only thing that mattered was Aziraphale and their absurdly soft bed. He relaxed even deeper into the blankets.

All the while, the angel’s other hand was tracing shapes in a pattern on his back. First, a straight drag down his spine. Next, a line down the left side and across his lower back. Then a circle. Then two diagonals, from left shoulder, to the small of his back, to right shoulder. Another vertical line with three horizontals.

The realization dragged Crowley out of his boneless stupor.

Aziraphale was tracing letters across his back. He concentrated all his remaining brain power as the pattern repeated a second time.

The spine was an I. 

The left side and lower back formed an L. Then, an O. 

V.

E.

Y O U.

A pause. The pattern started again. A straight line traced the bones in his spine. Down the left side of his back, sliding across the lower half. A circle.

“Hey. Angel?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Love you too.”

“I know, Crowley.” He tugged a lock of hair into place. Crowley sighed. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> happy new year y’all! wow it’s been A While since I last posted. this is quite short but I also wrote the entire thing between two and four am... anyway. as always thanks so much for reading!! i live for feedback so pls let me know if you enjoyed


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